


The Frost King

by misreall



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dreams, F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26375716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: An interlude during The Frost Queen
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 51





	The Frost King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Latent_Thoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latent_Thoughts/gifts).



> For Latent_Thoughts birthday, since I know The Frost Queen is her favorite
> 
> Unbeta'd, mea culpa

“This way,” Loki said. 

He took Aere’s hand and led her through the thicket and trees of the park along the river. Everything was beginning to turn toward autumn. A few leaves here and there upon the massive elms and oaks had anticipated the season and were dots of brilliant yellow, brushes of deep emerald that was turning to purple. 

The sugar maples were starting to go their impossible orange red.

All was as if a painter had accidently knocked over their pallet and splattered the trees.

Birds sang as their last songs of the season, before flying south. The final, exuberant display of life before the land slept.

She went with him. Though fury and logic both told her to pull free, to curse and scratch and spit and fight. But she went with him, their fingers entwined, and at one point he smiled at her over his shoulder, his eyes soft and jade, a fond smile on his thin lips, and he lifted his hand so he might kiss her’s.

The massive blue ash under which they’d had their first kiss had turned entirely. The top leaves were pumpkin orange, and those beneath were gold. 

It was the first place they had kissed, so long ago on the Midwinter night. For a second Aere dug her heels in, not being able to bear the thought of being beneath it with him.

When they were beneath it Loki pulled her against him, and she pressed her face against the linen of his tunic, his black coat spreading about her. “Kiss me, Aere,” he whispered against the hair on the top of her head, pressing kisses there in turn.

Despite her best intent, a few tears wet his clothing, and she found herself taking fistfuls of the back of it, pressing herself closer.

“I know this is not true. It is a dream. If it be my own, or one you have sent to torment me, either way it is not real. You are not the man who loved me any longer, and I am not the one who loved you.”

He leaned farther over her, so he could whisper close in her ear, the warm of his breath turning cool as he spoke, until by the end it froze her, “Just because something is not real, does not make it a lie,  _ min  _ _ fjársjóður.” _

Stepping away from her, Loki gestured about them. Snow lay a foot deep, and every leaf of every shade was gone, leaving black branches against a winter white sky, and Loki’s red, smoldering eyes and blue flesh were the only colors to be had.

“Do you prefer this? Bleak and frozen? I can  _ always _ offer you that. Just come back to me and you can have all of the winter you can tolerate. But here,” he tapped the space between her eyes softly, his touch burning cold, “I can give you everything.”

With that word the world about them was alive with color and sound.

Aere knew she should leave.

She knew she should force herself to wake.

Instead, she took the three steps to him, until they touched. “Kiss me,” she told him. 

Loki wrapped and arm about her shoulder, and another about her waist, to gather her upwards, holding and kissing her as if she were a wild thing about to flee him, and they fell helplessly into one another.

With a startled cry, Loki woke.

“What is it, My King?” Nott said, rolling over to face him. “Dreams?”

He frowned, and touched his face, surprised to find a fine trail of ice from his eye to his lips. Laughing as he wiped it away, he told his queen, “I honestly cannot recall. But that is the nature of dreams is it not? Go back to sleep.”


End file.
